Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Marshall Field's Famous Frango Mints, the Myth and Back Story.

THE MYTH
"Frango Mints candy was originally a product of the Frederick and Nelson Co. department stores in Seattle, Washington. The chocolates were first known as Franco Mints in the 1920s. When Marshall Field bought those Seattle stores, they also acquired Franco Mints. The name stayed that way until 1939 when Spain's General Francisco 'Franco' became controversial. Field's then changed the name to Frango Mints."
When Macy's purchased Marshall Fields, they began selling the candy in what was supposed to be a copy of the original 1929 Marshall Fields candy gift box. The trouble was that the box identified the candy as "Frango Mints." Was Macy's engaging in historical revisionism?

After some research, it was found that the Franco-to-Frango story needed to be corrected. 

Frederick and Nelson had trademarked its candy as "Frango Mints" on June 1, 1918. It is said that name was a portmanteau for FRederick And Nelson GOodness. Generations of Field's employees had been unknowingly passing down this false tale.

So unless someone comes up with an old box or advertisement for "Franco" Mints, another urban legend has been debunked.


Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.



THE BACKSTORY
Originally, "Frango" was the name for a frozen dessert sold at the sophisticated Tea Room at Frederick & Nelson's department store at Sixth Avenue and Pine Street in Seattle, Washington. The first Frango frozen dessert was available in maple and orange flavors.

In 1926, the consistency of the Frango Dessert was described as flaky, requiring a fork, not a spoon, as you would use with ice cream. The Frango name eventually was extended to ice-cream sodas, pies, and milkshakes sold at the store. It wasn't until 1927 that Ray Alden, who ran Frederick's in-store candy kitchen, developed the Frango mint meltaway chocolate.
Alden's secret recipe used chocolate from African and South American cocoa beans, triple-distilled oil of Oregon peppermint, and 40% local butter.
Frederick & Nelson's candy kitchen.
A few months after Marshall Field's agreed to buy out Frederick & Nelson's and take control of the Seattle company in 1929, the Frederick & Nelson candy makers in Seattle were summoned to Chicago to introduce Frango mints to Marshall Field's to help build slumping sales during the Great Depression. Soon, the candy kitchen at Marshall Field's had produced its own Midwestern interpretation of the Frango Chocolate recipe.
Marshall Field's candy kitchen.
Although the Northwest version still uses the original Frederick & Nelson recipe, Marshall Field's recipe has been modified a few times. This and using different ingredients and equipment would account for any difference in taste between the two versions.

One crucial distinction between the two types of Frango chocolates is the packaging. Midwestern Frango chocolates are sold in traditional flat candy boxes, with the chocolates set in candy papers. By contrast, Northwest Frango chocolates are individually wrapped and sold in distinctive hexagon-shaped boxes.
The Midwest version had been produced on the 13th floor of the Marshall Field's flagship State Street store from 1929 until March 1999. However, demand for the chocolates overwhelmed the in-house facility; consequently, then corporate owner Dayton-Hudson Corp. handed over the production contract for Frangos to Gertrude Hawk Chocolates in Dunmore, Pennsylvania and closed the Field's candy kitchen, letting go virtually all of the candy kitchen's employees. This infuriated many Chicagoans and enraged Chicago Mayor Richard M. Daley, who sought to have the iconic chocolates made by a local Chicago company.

Garrett Brands (Chicago's Garrett Popcorn and Frango brands) has been producing Macy's (Marshall Field's) Frango mints since 2017.

The Christmas Tree Ship is a captivating Chicago holiday story.

By the late 19th century, the German tradition of decorating an evergreen tree in the home was widely adopted in Chicago, which meant a steep rise in demand for Christmas trees. Actually, there were many lake schooners that made the late-season runs from Michigan's Upper Peninsula and Wisconsin loaded with thousands of Christmas trees headed for the Chicago River docks. The last ships to arrive at the end of each shipping season were these Christmas Tree ships. It was a dangerous journey on the increasingly stormy lake so late in the year. Tragedy often struck and some ships never made it to their destination.
The Schooner Rouse Simmons.
The Schooner Rouse Simmons.
The Rouse Simmons was a 205-ton, three-masted schooner that became known as THE Christmas Ship. It was built in Milwaukee in 1868 by the prominent Allan, McClelland, & Company and named after a Kenosha businessman Rouse Simmons (whose brother, Zalmon Simmons, would become famous for his mattress company). In its early decades the Rouse Simmons was a workhorse, making weekly runs between Grand Haven, Michigan and Chicago.

But in 1910 a Wisconsin-born lake captain, Herman Schuenemann, bought an interest in the vessel. It was a common practice at the time for two or more businessmen to form a partnership and purchase shares in an expensive schooner. Schuenemann was a veteran schooner master who had hauled Christmas trees to Chicago for nearly three decades, but now would proudly command his own ship.

Lake Michigan was a busy place. During the late 1860s, the age of sail reached its peak with more than 1,800 sailing vessels on the lake (an era that would come to an end by the 1920s). The dominant vessel was the sturdy schooner and the primary cargo was lumber, feeding the demand for building materials needed in burgeoning cities around the lake.
Christmas Tree Ship painting by Charles Vickery.
Christmas Tree Ship painting by Charles Vickery.
Herman Schuenemann was born c1865 in Algoma, Wisconsin on the shores of Lake Michigan. His oldest brother, August, was the first to make his living on the lake and Herman soon followed. By the early 1890s Schuenemann lived in Chicago and made his living as both a merchant and lake captain. In 1891 he married Barbara Schindel and they had three daughters during the decade.

Herman and his brother August got into the Christmas tree trade at that time. It was a potentially lucrative business, but dangerous. In 1898 August perished when the schooner S. Thal, filled with Christmas trees, sank in a storm off of Glencoe, Illinois. Herman continued the family business, despite the substantial risks.

It seems that Captain Schuenemann (whose German surname means handsome or nice man) found joy in his work. While other Christmas tree traders sold to Chicago wholesalers and grocers, Schuenemann sold directly to Chicagoans dockside by the Clark Street bridge. By cutting out the middleman he could sell his trees at lower prices (50 cents to one dollar) while still making a profit. He used the slogan, "Christmas Tree Ship: My Prices are the Lowest."
"The Dearborn Magazine" December 1912 cover.
Chicago children waited on nearby bridges for the Christmas Tree Ship to arrive, believing it was coming from the North Pole. And what a festive experience to board the snow-covered schooner to choose a tree! The ship was bedecked with electric lights from bow to stern, and a tree crowned the main mast. There were also wreaths, garlands, and other holiday decorations for sale, made by Mrs. Schuenemann and their daughters.

Captain Schuenemann's profits never made him wealthy, but he gained a reputation for generosity. It was observed that he probably gave away as many Christmas trees as he sold. Chicagoans and city newspapers took note of his generosity to the needy and began calling him 'Captain Santa.' Schuenemann and his ship were famous. He enjoyed his celebrity and even kept newspaper clippings in his wallet about his role as 'Captain Santa,' the kind-hearted Christmas Tree Ship captain.
'Captain Santa,' Captain Schuenemann in the center, early 1900s.
By 1912 Schuenemann was in his prime as a lake captain, but the same could not be said for the Rouse Simmons. The vessel was now 44 years old and showing the wear and tear of time, heavy loads of lumber, and the elements. In late November of that year, he loaded the schooner with 5,500 trees from Thompson Harbor near Manistique, Michigan and planned to make the week-long journey to Chicago, 300 miles south. Trees were crammed into every possible corner of the ship and the weight was far above recommendations. Some eyewitnesses to the Rouse Simmons's departure observed that the ship looked like a floating forest.

Schuenemann had a choice to make: the weather had been relatively calm, but heavy snow had fallen and a storm was brewing. Some of his competitors opted to not risk the journey. But he knew the resulting shortage of Christmas trees would give him the advantage. 60 mph winds were predicted, but he and perhaps 16 others onboard set out at noon on November 22, 1912.

During the night with the winds and waves hitting the ship hard, two sailors, many bundled trees, and a small boat were swept overboard by a giant wave. The storm continued to worsen and Captain Schuenemann tried to navigate to shore with great difficulty. The next day, the imperiled vessel was spotted from the Wisconsin shoreline at Two Rivers and a powerboat was sent out on a rescue mission, but it was too late. The Rouse Simmons had vanished.

In Chicago, Schuenemann's family waited for word. But it was soon clear that The Christmas Tree Ship would not be arriving. Three other ships on Lake Michigan went down in the storm that night, as well: the South Shore, the Three Sisters, and the Two Brothers. Within days of the tragedy, Christmas trees and wreckage began washing ashore at Pentwater, Michigan…and continued to wash up on the coastline for years after.
Front Page Headlines from the Chicago American Newspaper.
The location of the Rouse Simmons wreck remained a mystery for 59 years. 1923 Captain Schuenemann's wallet was found in a fisherman's net near Two Rivers. But it was not until 1971 that Milwaukee diver Gordon Kent Bellrichard discovered the vessel's remains 12 miles northeast of Two Rivers in 165 feet of water. He had been searching for another sunken ship, but quickly realized which famous vessel he had come upon. His discovery ended a mystery that surrounded the fate of one of the most legendary ships to sail Lake Michigan and its much-loved Captain Santa.
Historical Marker in Thompson, Michigan.
Considered to be a grave site, the wreck of the Rouse Simmons was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2007. Further explorations and recovery of items from the ship have been made over the years. The sunken ship was found still full of Christmas trees.
Divers explore the bow of the schooner Rouse Simmons, aka: "The Christmas Tree Ship."
Each year in December the U.S. Coast Guard commemorates the final voyage of Captain Schuenemann and the Rouse Simmons by sending their Coast Guard Cutter Mackinaw to make the journey from northern Michigan delivering a shipment Christmas trees to Navy Pier to be distributed to Chicago's needy families.

Following the tragedy, wife Barbara, and daughters Elsie, Hazel, and Pearl took over where the Captain left off, selling and sometimes giving away trees and wreaths at the Clark Street dock. In the early years, they continued to receive shipment by schooner, but soon shifted to rail transportation, while still selling the trees at the river's edge.

In 1913, the year after Captain Schuenemann's death, the city of Chicago erected its first Christmas tree on the lakefront in honor of the Captain, his brother, and his crew. 100,000 people attended its dedication on Christmas Eve.
After Barbara died in 1933, the daughters sold trees from the family's lot for a few years.
The story of The Christmas Tree Ship lives on, not only in the annual delivery of trees, but in books (at least four histories), film (two documentaries), plays, musicals, and song.
Captain Schuenemann's twin daughters, Hazel and Pearl, standing among Christmas trees for sale wearing garlands of greens around their necks in 1917.
Elsie Schuenemann Roberts, daughter of Captain Schunemann, holding a Christmas tree on a sidewalk.
The Christmas Tree Ship today.
VIDEO
Chicago's Christmas Tree Ship
Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Tuesday, December 4, 2018

The Very First Frenchman in Southern Illinois turns out to be a Poacher.

The very first Frenchman so far as known, who passed over the old trails of southern Illinois, was a poacher. That Frenchman passed this way in 1673. He was at or near the mouth of [Little] Mary's River (near Chester, Illinois) when La Salle came down the Mississippi on his very first voyage; that explorer stopped long enough to interview René-Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle (Sieur de La Salle is a title only: translating to "Lord of the Manor.") and got certain valuable information from him.

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In 1670 La Salle set out on another expedition. He led a group of men west across Lake Erie and then overland, ending up at the southern tip of Lake Michigan. Although reports from the expedition do not indicate, it would have been obvious that the Great Lakes represented a vast freshwater sea. From Lake Michigan, the party moved south across Illinois and encountered the Mississippi River. From the first expedition, La Salle would have known that the position on the Mississippi was far north of the Ohio. He likely deduced that both rivers flowed South to the river reported by De Soto. La Salle later followed up the discovery and sailed down the river all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. His trip made him the first European to travel the length of the Mississippi.

The name of this lone Frenchman is not mentioned, but as he was a scout, he may, for convenience, be called "Le Espion" (French for 'the spy'). The information he gave La Salle reveals much of Le Espion's life. He told La Salle about the river from that point (Little Mary's River) to the Chickasaw Bluffs and the various tribes of Indians along it; he also told of a great tributary entering this river from the east and of some of its tribes. Le Espion must have been in that territory for several months to possess that knowledge, probably running into years. He was probably not alone in so vast a territory—there were other lone scouts. He was there not for pleasure, nor for sightseeing, but for business.


The business of Le Espion reveals itself. At that time, many French-Canadians—Itinerant (a traveler, wanderer) merchants, voyageurs, adventurers, etc.—traversing the unexplored west in search of favorable locations for the fur trade. One such voyageur rescued Hennepin at the Falls of St. Anthony. Of course, these adventurers were looking for areas for the illegitimate fur trade because they did not expect to pay the king a royalty for the privilege of trading under such difficulties. But since the fur companies and such men as La Salle did pay licenses, and since they had police powers and might arrest and punish poachers, and since it was the duty of the Fathers to apprehend all such poachers, these Itinerants followed the inland portages, divides, watersheds, or old Indian trails. They avoided the missions and the navigable streams; the Ohio River, from the mouth of the Wabash River to the mouth of the Tennessee River, was taboo because it was frequented by English-speaking traders whom the Itinerants feared to encounter.

The Itinerant Merchant was a Canadian with some means of his own or a line of credit with a Quebec or Montreal fur buyer. He had allied with him from five to twenty-five Canadian youths, on a sort of profit-sharing basis, who were designated voyageurs (commercial travelers). Each voyageur, in turn, had with him a servant and a 'coureur de bois' who acted as interpreter. A fully equipped Itinerant might have in his party as many as seventy-five men and boys—a considerable party, with considerable expense. Accordingly, it behooved the Itinerant to select a suitable location for trade. The best site for the purpose was to be found amid Indians, who were in the midst of fur-bearing woods. Le Espion, doubtless, was looking for just such a place; we shall see.

In 1684, Franquelin, a French geographer, made a map of Louisiana, which included the Mississippi and its tributaries to their headwaters. On that map, he shows, at the head of the Grand Chain of Rocks, a post named Tacaogane; at the Frankfort Hill, one named Nataogami; at the mouth of the Wabash River, on the left bank, one named Taarsile; one at about the location of East St. Louis, named Maroa; and at Cahokia, one named Kaockia. These are the only posts shown within several hundred miles of this old Reservation on that map, and it is presumed that they were the only ones then existed. These posts were necessarily built before 1684, and posts Tacaogane and Nataogami, the only ones within the Reservation, fairly shout as to the business of Le Espion in 1673. Of these two posts, Nataogami had by far the better location; it was at a great crossroads—the intersection of the "grand trace," or Ohio-Mississippi watershed, and the "salt trail" from river to river. If the Itinerant located there had his full complement of seventy-five men, he needed many shelters, requiring several huts.

The “trafiquer (French: a trafficker) post” was a log hut fourteen by twenty feet, with a log partition. A door in the south end of the hut gave ingress to and egress from the storeroom for merchandise, and there was a hole in the partition for convenience in storing furs and peltries in the rear room.
An example of a small American log trading post.
Today (1932), a voyageur would be called a pack peddler. The voyageur with his pack, his servant with a similar pack, and his coureur de bois with a gun and some camping equipment sallied forth in quest of an Indian camp and of trade. Le Espion, in all probability, was one such voyageur looking for a favorable trading place. Having found a desirable location, he built a small, one-roomed hut, thus establishing a sort of sub-post called a depot. He hired an Indian woman to chop wood, build fires, cook, wash and mend. He was then ready to trade brandy or other wares to the Indians for beavers. These cost him from forty cents to one dollar apiece; when they reached Montreal, they were worth four times that much, and at Paris or Bordeaux, ten times as much. Although the coureur de bois was his interpreter, the voyageur soon learned the twenty words necessary for him to be able to trade with the Indians; after that, the interpreter and the servant were kept busy carrying beavers to the post and other merchandise back to the depot.

This sub-post, or depot, was usually given a French name to benefit such persons as might desire to go there in the future. The stream, or prairie, upon which the depot was located, was also given a descriptive phrase name for better identification. In this manner, our many French names came to be here.

Some of the streams that have French names are Au Kas (Okaw), Beaucoup, Au Vase, Cache, Saline (Le eau de salle—salt spring), Grand Pierre, Gros Baie (Big Bay), Bobinet, Au Detour, and Le Clair; there were doubtless others whose names are lost to us. Some of the prairies in and near this Reservation are: Le Prairie du Bochier; Le Prairies du Long, du Chien, du Grand Cote, du Paradis, and du Etang (pond—East Six Mile); Le Prairie du ville de mont (Town Mount); du Coline (hill—probably Knob Prairie); du Mauvais (poor); and dn Fredonner (pronounced Fredonia, and meaning to hum, to buzz—probably Eight Mile).

Our most prominent landmarks were Cavite-en-rocher (Cave-in-Rock); Le Grand Chaine a la Rocher (the Grand Chain of Rocks); Cavite Deltoid (the delta-like formation at the mouth of the Ohio River); Le Cap de St. Croix (Grand Tower) and others not now familiar.

There were numerous little depots with big French names. The best-remembered of these were: Macedonian (Macedonia); Francefort (Frankfort - modern-day West Frankfort); Egalite (Equality); Eau Mineral (Creal Springs); Vienne (vi en, both vowels short; location of this depot uncertain); Moscou (Moscow, probably becoming a post later); Perou (Peru, location well known); Golconda (near Reevesville); A pas le Mocassin (Mocassin Gap) A pas le Geant (Giant's Pass, identity not sure); and many others that a former generation of men could name.

This large number of French names did not become attached to all these places by chance but were given by the French traders, trappers, and hunters who roamed about this Reservation before Americans came; enough of these Frenchmen remained until the coming of our forefathers to acquaint them with these names. Our forefathers adopted the French names they found here for the same reasons that the English-speaking peoples who settled around Kaskaskia adopted the French names of rivers, prairies, and places. A smaller and more scattered French population here probably accounts for the death of many others with French names.

The fact that our French left no history is not at all strange. They were baconers (poachers) violating two strict laws of Canada—they were trading with the Indians without a license and selling them brandy, which had been prohibited. (One such violator had been hanged in Quebec.) They were violating an economic law by wasting their time in the woods with Indians, learning all their vices and teaching them others instead of staying at home and producing foodstuffs for the next winter; this was a tremendous economic loss to Canada. And they were violating the moral law by their relations with Indian women; this was quite a scandal in the minds of the Jesuit Fathers. They wrote many scathing letters about that scandal to the governor and the intendant.

There were not more than nine thousand people in Canada at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and the territory was so immense that properly policing it was not practicable. A stricter edict was therefore declared, but to this edict, D'L'Hut and eight hundred young Canadians answered by withdrawing into the woods to become Indians. As a salve for these, who were much needed in the wars bound to come with the English, the king issued permits that allowed an Itinerant to have as many as twenty-five voyageurs with two men each as helpers. If the two "posts" known to have been in this Reservation each had its Itinerant with his full complement of helpers, then there were as many as one hundred and fifty Frenchmen here. In all, twenty-five such permits were issued. But their issuance only aggravated the brandy-selling and the dissipation and caused the priests to write stronger letters than ever. In this way, the permits were withdrawn and re-issued several times. And this was Canada's somewhat muddled condition of affairs at the beginning of the eighteenth century.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.